


In The Nick Of Time

by Shaunarnia



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 02:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17593199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaunarnia/pseuds/Shaunarnia
Summary: You’re caught in a sticky situation, but luckily for you, an old, familiar face unexpectedly comes to your aid.





	In The Nick Of Time

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic for this fandom! I'm a lil bit nervous about this, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

“Hey, you get your damn hands offa me! The hell d’you think you are?!”

You struggle to wrench yourself free from the client who’s currently dragging you up the stairs of La Bastille Saloon to his rented room. A drink is what you’d initially agreed to, and he’s obviously taken it too far with the booze tonight, which is a dealbreaker for you. You’ve never taken advantage of a drunk man in any way, shape, or form, and you’re certainly not about to start now.

Of course, when you’d told him you’d prefer to call it a night, and that maybe he’ll see you tomorrow night instead when he’s sober, he didn’t take too kindly to that. Even though he’s absolutely spangled, he still has you in a vice grip, and he holds you even tighter while he fumbles to open the door to his room.

“Shut up an’ keep quiet!”

He slurs, staggering slightly, momentarily releasing the handle on the door and steady himself with his free hand. His grasp is tight enough to bruise your forearm, and despite the fact that you haven’t prevailed in the struggle so far, you persist.

“I told you, it ain’t happenin’! Not tonight!” you fire back, “Someone’s gonna come along an’ put you in your place if you don’t let me go!”

Leering in, he laughs mirthlessly, and you can almost  **_taste_ ** the whiskey on his breath, never mind smell it. You grimace, trying to turn away, but he’s got you cornered with nowhere to go.

“Yeah? Who’s gon’ come and help out some whore, huh?”

You’re silent, and for him, that says it all. He manages to get the door ajar, and you cling to the wall in a desperate last effort to get yourself out of the situation, proceeding to make a racket as you do so. He’s bound to overpower you, you already know that, but you want to at least try preventing the inevitable, or maybe give yourself time to conjure up a way to catch him off guard somehow-

“The  **_hell_ ** is goin’ on out here?!”

A hotel room door swings open, snapping you out of your rapidly racing thoughts. Out steps a gruff looking stranger, and upon closer inspection, you come to realise that he is, in fact, not a stranger at all.

Arthur Morgan. Not that you were ever expecting to meet him again, certainly not under these circumstances, you never did forget that name or face.

Back before everything had completely turned to shit for you, he’d once helped you and your parents out with trouble with bandits targeting your ranch while he was just passing through one day. Even then, his timing was perfect. Some things truly never do change, huh?

Your client turns to look at Arthur, and he scoffs, shaking his head at him, refusing to loosen his grip on you.

“Nothin’ for you to worry about. Get outta here! This ain’t nothin’ to do with you!”

Arthur strides forward, and his gaze is piercing, unfaltering. He stares the stranger down with every step he takes, until finally, he’s standing directly in front of him, keeping up the eerily calm resolve.

“The lady told you to let her go, mister. I suggest you listen to her.”

His voice is low, the hint of a threat behind his words. He’s almost challenging the man to argue back, and the poor bastard is drunk - more like dumb - enough to keep running his mouth. However, it’s enough to get him to finally release you, and without a second thought, you’re ducking out of the way.

“Get outta my face, boy, or I’ll knock you flat on your ass!”

He bites back immediately, sneering at an unflinching Arthur, which only seems to anger him even more. He draws an arm back, ready to swing at him and stay true to his word, but Arthur simply ducks to the side before it can connect. 

Arthur simply shoves the stranger in the direction of the nearest wall with enough force for him to bounce back off of it, and he falls sideways, his head connecting with a side table. He hits the floor with a thud, flat on his face, and you stare, shocked at first. Then, the shock quickly morphs into fear. You’re honestly not sure if he’s just inadvertently killed this man or not, and before you can even stammer out an apology for intervening, Arthur is crouching down and rolling the man over onto his back, and he holds a hand out in front of his face, leaving it there for a second or two.

“It’s alright.” he hums, still crouching, “He’s still breathin’.”

Arthur glances at you before he rises back up to his full height again, and then, he turns his full attention to you. You bite your lip and nod slightly, doing everything possible to avoid looking him in the eye, but you know you’re going to have to at some point during this interaction.

“You alright, miss?”

“I...y-yeah. I think so.” you near enough mumble, and your eyes finally meet his, “...Thank you. If...if there’s anythin’ I can do to pay you back, just name it. I ain’t got much, but...I owe you.”

Now that Arthur’s had the chance to really look at you, there’s a flicker of recognition in his features. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and while he can’t place a name to the face to begin with, it eventually hits him like a punch to the gut.

“...(Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

He states your name, properly studying you now. What was once loosely braided hair now resembles a nest. Decent clothes have now become rags, and the bright smile you once wore has now turned into a semi-permanent frown. He can hardly believe it at first, but there’s no mistaking that it’s most definitely you.

You sigh and shuffle your feet, nodding slightly, and Arthur frowns, leading you away from the unconscious man laying before you both.

“What happened to you? Your daddy lose the ranch or somethin’?”

He asks, and that sets you off crying. But you don’t blame him. He has no idea what happened back then, and you sure as hell don’t owe him an explanation, but you’re about to give him one anyway.

“No, uh...y-you...well…” you stutter, pausing only to compose yourself, “...Remember those bandits, the day you met me, momma, and daddy?”

You ask, and he nods, willing you to continue in your own time.

“They...some of ‘em got away. Half of ‘em wasn’t even shot that day, and...they came back. Killed momma and daddy. They was gonna kill me, too.”

Your voice breaks, and the tears flow with no intention of stopping anytime soon. You momentarily turn your back on Arthur, praying you can calm yourself down to at least finish what you’re in the midst of telling him.

“Aw, miss, that’s real awful.”

Arthur sighs, and even then, he’s not sure if he’s saying the right thing, but he figures that it’s better than standing in silence. Your sobs turn into sniffles, and you slowly turn back to him, swiping the tears away with the back of your hand.

“...I got away. Hopped on the first horse I found and rode the hell outta there. Didn’t know where I was goin’, but...thought Saint Denis was promisin’.”

You clear your throat, looking him in the eye before you continue. Arthur is listening intently, arms folded, his eyes not leaving your face while he gives you the time to tell your story, knowing that nobody else is likely to have even asked about it anyway, so he grants you that, at least.

“I didn’t have nowhere to go. Slept in the backs of empty wagons an’ some folks barn when I knew they wasn’t gonna catch me there. Probably woulda shot me or somethin’. And...now here I am, waitin’ out on the street for whichever feller wants to take me with ‘im, just so I got enough money to eat, or maybe get myself a room if I’m lucky. Lord knows how I survived this long.”

You let out a shaky sigh, shrugging to yourself, trying to smile despite it all. But you fail. Your lip quivers, sobs threatening to resume all over again, even though you’re trying your hardest to put on a brave face.

Arthur could easily leave you here, give you enough money so you can at least  **_attempt_ ** to start over elsewhere. But he doesn’t. Instead, he considers you for a moment, weighing both options he has in mind. Finally, he sighs, shaking his head slightly, but it’s meant more for himself, not you.

He doesn’t usually do things quite like this, but he knows you’ve lost everything you held dear, and he really does feel sorry for you. Had Arthur not already known you, maybe he’d see the situation differently, and even though you’re falling apart at the seams in comparison to the last time he saw you, he knows that the sweet and amiable rancher’s daughter from his memory is still hidden away in there somewhere.

“...C’mon.”

He stands aside, creating space to allow you to pass, but you don’t. You simply stare at him, dumbfounded and frozen in place, mouth slightly agape. Arthur gestures to the clear path in front of him, nodding his head to the side, signalling you to follow him.

“Wh-...What?”

“I’m gettin’ you outta here, somewhere safe. I ain’t just gonna leave you on your own like that.” when you step forward, he continues, “I’m with a group, where we’re camped out ain’t too far from here. You can stay with us.”

A few seconds later, your feet drag along the hotel hallway floor whilst your legs carry you towards Arthur. You open your mouth to speak, but no sentence, let alone any words, spill out. He waits until you’re by his side before he continues to walk, remaining close to you in hopes of you feeling some form of comfort from his presence. You do, of course, and it’s not until you’re halfway down the stairs that lead into the saloon that you’re finally able to speak.

“You...d’you think they’re gonna mind? I don’t wanna just show up if it’s gonna be-”

“It’s all gonna be fine.”

Arthur interjects, softly. He halts just before the next step, and he turns to gaze down at you, occasionally glancing down at your hand, as if he’s asking permission to take it. When you don’t shy away, he slowly reaches out, clasping your significantly smaller hand in his, and he gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“Come with me, sweetheart. I’m gon’ help you out. I promise.”


End file.
